Enzo's Conquest
by xxhorriblemusicianxx
Summary: Enzo witnesses his girlfriend's death and is hopeless to stop it due to his addiction, which leads him to question his existence and eventually turn his life around in his effort to bring his conniving "therapist" to the stand.  Enzo's perspective
1. The Interrogation

**A.N./ I absolutely adore Ryan Kelley, who plays Enzo Cooke in "Law and Order: SVU : Users," so I had to write this.  
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She was beautiful. I felt a long forgotten part of my mind open up and flood me with an almost uncomfortably strong emotion. I raised the camera that Dad had given to me last Christmas—via airmail—and shot her picture as she leaned, haughtily folding her arms at her dad, against the wall. That started me on a series of attempts to win them both over. AJ, as I learned her name was, soon grew to love me, but her father never really approved of me. I bet it's because I rolled up my sleeves once. The tracks of my self-loathing marred my once-smooth, white skin.

There was a line where one of my veins had collapsed beneath the surface of my skinny forearm. Yet I could only stop injecting for a few hours on end, unless I was with AJ. When we could touch and kiss and love, I felt as much euphoria as any rush. But when I could see That Man with her, I had to do more crunk.

That's what happened the day Martin killed the love of my life. Maybe not by his own hand, but I knew he had a part in this twisted tragedy. I followed AJ to the sleazy hotel, and I was so scared. The bag of heroin was a heavy lead weight in my pocket. It would calm me. Placing the hose tight, I sucked the powder into the syringe. Taking a deep breath, I emptied the contents into a vein just below the crook of my elbow. The rewards would outlive the pain of injection.

Soon enough, I was floating. Dizzily, I staggered out of the Lexus—another guilt present, this time from my mother—and stood under AJ's window. I could hear her sounds of pleasure seeping out of the room, and my insides clenched painfully. That was supposed to be me. Damn, Martin, for making her so messed up she couldn't even tell what she was doing was wrong. Damn us for being so twisted we couldn't stop him.

Suddenly, I heard gurgles and screams from the room. _AJ!_ The thought was quickly wiped away by the content haze the heroin pulled over my brain. I stood on tiptoe and peered into the room. Her attacker was choking her. I couldn't move for horror. But then the horror dissipated as well. I could only watch, detached, as she died at the hands of some bulky stranger. The sidewalk seemed to twirl around me. I walked sloppily to the car, my eyelids almost closing. I was sweating. I put the car in drive and pulled out, mind racing.

Later that night, I was shaking and trying to learn what happened. My shakes of withdrawal turned to those of anger and dread as AJ's beautiful voice filled my seventy-inch monitor—courtesy of my father. AJ was dead. The thought was unimaginable.

Never again to hold her, touch her. I mourned, tears streaming down my face. Another hit, and twenty minutes later, I had a plan. It took only a few minutes. Putting my camera back on the shelf, I walked to the nearby police station. It was dark—nobody could see me. When I let myself back in, I dropped onto the bed and downed sleeping pills so that I'd be fresh for tomorrow.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and rooted through the boxes in the attic until I found what I was looking for. Dad's old scrubs, from better days, stared up at me with an inviting look. Five minutes later, I wheeled out of the driveway at a full twenty miles per hour.

Inside the morgue section of the institution, nobody blinked twice at this scrawny, haunted sixteen year old, even though I was sure that they were going to catch me before I reached my destination. Luck was with me, however. I found her body unattended.

Just then, I crashed. Utter despair filled me with an unimaginably deep grief. I hadn't realized I could still feel this much. I didn't want to feel, but at the same time, I needed to. I needed to remind myself that I'd never be able to touch her again after today. I threw my arms around her cold corpse, willing me to feel an answering warmth.

"No, no," I groaned. My voice sounded reedy, even to me.

I guess I wanted to be heard, because they came to pull me away from her. Her beautiful face—gone! Any semblance of reason left me then, and I bolted, upturning the tray of instruments with a deafening clatter. I almost ran into the barrel of a shotgun. Trapped. Maybe I could confess. Maybe there was a chance for me to make this right.

The interrogation room was stark gray, with only the slightest hint of brown. I didn't like it, and I pounded on the window that separated me from two solemn-faced adults that stood staring at me.

"Get me out of here," I yelled at them. They turned away, and a tall guy in the room with me grabbed my shoulder, sitting me down on the cold, hard chair. I shook, cold. I was hungry and in shock. _AJ._

"Did you hurt AJ?" the man demanded.

"I did it. I confess," I said, my panic at being trapped eating at me. "Now can I go?"

The guy said nothing, just stared at me. I squirmed. I noticed a distraction in the next room, but I didn't pay much attention. All of a sudden, the man rose and asked,

"Want coffee? Sugar?"

How could he be nonchalant? I nodded wordlessly. When he came back, he had a blanket with him as well. I grabbed for the blanket first, my fingers shaking and ice cold, and draped it over my shoulders.

Then the interrogation began. They asked me questions about Martin and AJ. Then they started to ask me about her time of death. The terrible day came back to me with more clarity than I would have thought possible. I started to get a headache, and my breath began to quicken and become shallow. Self-loathing like I'd never felt before filled me and I cried the entire time they made me recount the tale.

"Conquer your fears," I quoted Martin. I sighed, trying to still my sobs. "I couldn't take it any longer and I left. If I hadn't—"here my voice broke—"maybe AJ would still be alive."

"Wait a minute. What were you doing at three in the morning?" The head detective fixed me with an intense stare.

"I lived there. We both did," I informed them.

"The day AJ was killed," the man said. "Did she mention going someplace?"

My breath caught in my throat. "She said she had an appointment," I said. "I thought she was meeting Gold, so I followed her to that sleazy hotel."

I stared off into space for a second, trying not to remember, but knowing I had to. For AJ. With a shaky voice, I continued.

"But I got scared and did some chunk," I admitted. I looked at them, imploring them to understand, but knowing that they never would. I wish they could understand the deep sorrow. I struggled on with the story.

"Then I wasn't scared anymore. I wasn't anything. It's just-I let her die," I said, my voice cracking. "Martin fixes you in ways you never imagine, you know?"

I paused.

"As much as I hate him, I still go. Martin says, or Martin used to say…" My voice turned bitter, mocking. Hard. Martin's face swam up in my vision, and I shuddered, forcing the words out as quickly as possible.

"He smiles when he's good, and he smiles when he's cruel. Same smile."

It all boiled down to my own shortcomings. I vowed to never touch the heroin again. What had started out as a harmless way of whiling away the feelings of neglect that had plagued me had turned into something far worse… the world faded away as my headache made spots appear before my eyes and I escaped into my own memories.

"_Go on, just try it," she had urged. "It'll take the pain away." My photography buddy. Her long dark tresses were still imprinted in my mind._

_By that time, I had needed no urging. I had woken up alone, as usual, but when I had entered the kitchen that morning, there had been a large, brightly wrapped present on the table rather than my parents. Gone, again. They gave me presents to assuage their own guilt. This time, I almost snapped. What Naomi was offering was peace and fulfillment. Of course I wanted to try it._

_I remembered the sharp stick of the needle, painful and then soothing as my first body rush took my pain and hidden sorrow from deep within the blackest holes of my heart and pushed them out of my system. That was my first taste of anything close to happiness ever since my mother and father had hit the rich art trade and had left me, young, scared and lonely, to keep house. The heroin did something for me that nothing else had done before. I had, of course, experimented with alcohol, but the forgetting made the remembering worse when the drunkenness vanished. Waking up in an empty house was always the worst. That's why I turned to the false lullaby of the drug. They say money can't buy happiness, but I thought I had cheated the system._

Now, tears streaming down my face, my love dead, my mother and father half a world away, my protector about to be locked up, and my life in shattered pieces that had to be injected into my blood, I realized just who I had deceived. Only myself. I couldn't blame anyone else for her death. I curled up on the chair, clenching the blanket tightly around me. My chest was constricting my heart, and I heaved, trying to draw a breath. The man asked me if I could testify against Martin, and I said yes. They left. The door closed behind them with a ring of finality.


	2. Withdrawal

**A.N./ I used a kind of stream of consciousness. That's what the italics are-flashbacks in non-chronological order.**

Alone, I was to stay in the interrogation room as they set a trap for Martin. I didn't want to. I needed a hit, bad. It was getting worse with every passing minute. Sweat dripped from my forehead, but I was _freezing, even though the fire was blazing._

"_Honey, you need more meat on your frame," Mom said tenderly as she curled up next to Dad on the couch. _

"_I'm okay," I said, my teeth chattering. I didn't protest, however, when they stretched their arms and opened a space between them. Running into their warm embraces, I felt safe and content, and not at all_ cold. It was seeping into my bones. I wasn't a criminal, so why was I still being held?

I thought of asking someone if I could leave, but I couldn't work up the energy to move. My head was killing me. I needed more. Forget the vow I had made. I was too weak to keep any promises. This was no different. My clammy hands trembled and shook_ in shock. I couldn't believe it. It must have been a joke. Dad? Getting a job that paid real money? Impossible! As I slowly processed his words, however, it sank in. We'd have a real income! A real house. We might be able to sit down as a family and have grand meals. We wouldn't have to go to bed with six blankets because we couldn't afford the heat, even with Mom working her librarian job and Dad spreading himself thin at the hospital._

_My excitement sent_ _tremors_ started in my fingers and moved, cold, up my arms, through my shoulders, and down to my legs. I was downright shaking. I hallucinated, too. My father seemed to be standing in the corner. His eyes, exactly the same soft hazel shade as mine, _stared deep into my soul. _

"_You have to understand, Enzo," his lips said. I heard nothing but the empty promise that fluttered under his honeyed words._

"_You said we'd be a family," I raged at him, all my anger and insecurities pouring out in a flood. "You promised we'd stay together now that we have more time!" _

_The glass I had been clenching in my fists shattered, a shard slipping into my palm with a quiet whisper. I took little notice of the crimson drips trailing down my arm._

"_I know, Enzo," he said wearily. "I just can't say no. I could lose my job."_

"_So lose your job! Family is more important, Dad," I said, fighting tears._

"_Enzo," he said sharply. His voice lost its understanding edge. I quailed. "If I lose my job, we'll be back to where we were before, which is nowhere. Do you really want that?"_

_Did I?_

_My insides_ turned into butterflies. I could swear I could hear my father laughing at what he found deep in my heart. A scared, whimpering little whelp, in need of nourishment. More nourishment than just food, but that would be a good start. My hands held my head tight against the shame as my father's laugh reverberated in my mind and became a raucous _noise that only served to remind me I was less than the ideal son. Why else would they have bid me to stay out of sight? Was I not good enough for the diamond-draped guests that carpeted the first floor like flies on a week-old carcass?_

'_Making connections.' That's what Dad had called it. Well it was time that he started being interested in making connections with his only son. Mother, too. I heard the soft, fake tinkling of my mother's voice downstairs _as she joined the image of my father in the corner, helping him mock me. My dead-end life.

"Stop, stop, please," I muttered. Their laughs continued, growing in volume. It hurt my ears. I screamed. "Leave me alone!" But their laughs only grew louder, their sneers wider, and I began to doubt if I had spoken at all. I was worthless, a_ lying piece of shit! Waste of time. Idiot._

"_What are we going to do with him?" "No time…" _

Please help me.

"_There's only one thing that matters." "I'd get fired." "Family is important." _

Save me.

_Tears. Crying. Another hit. Bliss. "This has got to stop!" But nobody wants to help. Neglect. Gone again._

If you had only stayed.

_Fat, ugly, idiot._

Stupid.

_Another hit. Strength—a façade. Not eating._

Feel something, goddammit. Anything.

_Worthlessness. Hopeless._

A commotion outside jerked me back. My father vanished, the world stopped spinning, and my torture eased. I spotted Martin staring at me with utmost loathing, and then I dropped my head back on the table, all of my will gone. My body was screaming at me for heroin, and an ache was creeping through my bones. It started in my right elbow—my favorite injection arm—and crept up until it encircled my heart. People could die from a broken heart, right?

Cold, in pain, and, as usual, hungry, I could only sit_ at the table, trying to stop the world from spinning. The empty bottle of whisky lay beside my place. Jack laughed at me from across the table. _

"_Weakling," he jeered. _

_I couldn't deny it. I was a weakling. But I couldn't let him get away with that. I stood up and smashed the bottle against the kitchen cabinets. The last drops of my first bottle of alcohol sprayed across the pristine white paint. It was a mess. Broken glass lay everywhere. I looked down at the scar that crossed my left palm. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Three o'clock in the morning was for forgetting and being strong. Not for cleaning up kitchens._

A shorter Asian man suddenly entered the room, breaking the chains of my mind. The psych. A shrink. His swift gaze seemed to look right into me and see all the secrets I kept hidden behind my mask of drugs. It made me feel almost human. Almost. When I lifted my head, the pain made me grimace. It jerked me back into reality completely. Human? I wasn't quite there yet. Not until I could set the wrong of AJ's death right.

"I'm Dr. Huang," the man said. "How are you doing?"

I glared at him. "What does it look like?" I snarled as best I could through the fog filling my brain.

"You're in withdrawal," Dr. Huang said calmly. I shivered, pulling the blanket tight. I arranged my face into a pleading expression.

"You've got to get me something," I whined, throwing my arms wide.

"The only thing I can do is take you to the hospital," Dr. Huang said unflappably. I tensed.

"No!" I almost shouted. "Where's Martin?" He always took away my pain before.

Dr. Huang displayed surprise through a slight raise in his right eyebrow. "Is Gold supplying you?" he asked carefully.

I stood up, not really noticing the coolness of the room as the blanket slid off my back. The chair made a scratching sound, and I almost passed out as the blood drained from my head. Spots danced before my eyes. Clutching my arm, I did my best to glare defiantly at the doctor. "Can't you see I'm sick? You're a doctor, so help me!" I yelled.

"I can get you into rehab after we go to the hospital," Dr. Huang returned, cool and calculating. Cool and calculating…_"If you face your fears, we can overcome anything," he added. _Martin! What a lie he had turned out to be. I shook my head, suddenly angry.

"You don't give a damn about me!" I cried, my voice breaking. "No one does. Not my parents. Not those cops, only Martin." My voice went an octave higher. "Where's Martin?" My voice grew louder still, echoing in the small room.

Still, Dr. Huang did not react. "You're not going back to ASP," he said.

My voice had grown to a high-pitched shout, and I hadn't even noticed that I was standing right next to the doctor. I would have towered over him if I hadn't been doubled over with a pain that licked at my bones with a tongue of fire. I needed to vomit. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Barely noticed the sweat. Everything was swirling, and I couldn't focus.

"Look please, just tonight," I pleaded, clutching at my arms. I hated how weak my voice sounded. I hated how low I had fallen. But I continued keening. "I promise I'll do whatever you want." I looked at him, seeing double, but trying to concentrate. "Please." I lowered my voice. "I hurt bad. You've got to help me." Please.

"It's okay, Enzo. We're going to do the best thing for you. We're going to stop Martin Gold," Dr. Huang said.

I didn't answer. Did he even hear me? I rubbed my arms, trying to push some warmth into them. I keeled into the doctor and almost lost consciousness. He must have been repulsed. Everyone was always repulsed by me. Even I couldn't stand myself. Why else would I inject wings into my veins so I could fly higher every time? Why else would I drown myself in sin? What was the point of living a life nobody could love?


	3. False Comfort

I started to leak tears without even noticing it as he dragged me to the bathroom through the clusters of staring _people_. _The zoo was jam-packed. The monkeys were doing tricks behind the pane of glass that separated them from our reality. I tugged on my mother's new Chanel dress. She barely glanced at me. They were trapped simply for our entertainment and enjoyment._ Now I knew how it felt. I wanted to shout at them. I wanted to make them understand. I was once a great person. I was once a grade A student. Then the heroin…then the admittance to ASP. That day was…

"_Bye, Enzo," my mother said, a tear trickling down her face as Martin took me away. All for show. They didn't know, or maybe they didn't care, that Martin had been supplying me for months through Nina, a kid from my school who was also being counseled._

_As usual, my father didn't even watch me leave. He was too busy comforting my mother. He thought he could buy my love..or at least he thought he could buy my forgiveness. _

"_Face your fears," Martin said in his sonorous voice. His little silver car carried me to ASP, where I met AJ—_

AJ! I convulsed and hurled nothing but coffee into the industrial-strength toilet. My face flamed from embarrassment, fear, and pain. How low I had fallen. Vomiting into a jail toilet. The pain wracked my ribs and stomach. It was unbearable. I needed a hit so bad. It had never been worse.

"Please," I pleaded at Dr. Huang. His face swam in and out of my consciousness. I could have sworn AJ was in the room with me. I could sense it. She needed to go away. I needed a hit! Every single cell in my entire body was seemingly on fire. Rupturing, burning. Pain. I barely noticed as Alex and the other cops went away.

My skinny chest heaved again, and nothing came out. The gagging sound my throat made repulsed me. I was repulsive. Why did I ever delude myself into thinking she loved me? How could she? My fingers curled a rough circle around my abdomen. My stomach was empty. It had been empty for days. I hadn't eaten since I had gotten wind of AJ's meeting. Then I got my nourishment from the heroin again.

"Someone, please. I need a fix," I keened.

I wanted to cry and scream and wail and tear at the walls until they crumbled. I wanted to crack open and show everybody who I was underneath the pitiful mask. But I knew there was little chance of that happening while I was still lost in my own misery. Yet I couldn't figure out a way to break free.

Strong arms, strong enough to lift my 120 lb frame effortlessly, carried me out of the bathroom as I faded in and out of awareness. I could see a ring of blurred faces surrounding me, watching me with mixed expressions of pity, fury, and distaste. Whoever carried me out placed me on a stretcher right outside the bathroom, and that's where I fainted for good. The bliss felt wonderful, but the ignorance didn't last long.

I had failed everyone. They had expected too much of me. But it hadn't been too much to expect. I should be able to testify against Martin without needing to get high. But now I was broken. Who would ever take the word of someone who needed to soar among the clouds in order to function? Nobody would ever look twice at anything I had to say, especially not against Martin's flawless record. And I knew how he could twist words and turn man against man.

When I woke up again, I was still in agony, and a scrubbed nurse was fussing over my right arm. I stretched my neck, suppressing most of a groan. My teeth were gritted together so hard I felt them almost crack. The nurse felt my hand, and I tensed at an unexpected needle stick. The sliver of metal pricked at the skin on the back of my hand, caught, then slid into my vein. Cool, soothing methadone raced through my veins, carrying the pain killer and fake amphetamines to all the hurt in me. My eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. I heard raised voices, then a low soothing voice that sounded familiar—Martin?—

_Then I felt my mother's fingers at my forehead, wiping away the fever with her tender touch. My father was working, but we'd have a real sit-down dinner soon. He'd be back from his nursing job and he'd help me heal. Meanwhile, my mom read me a story. Her cool words washed over me, and I floated away on her promises and dreams and hopes._

_Then the world moved. The roar of a small silver car. My mother's new BMW. The bane of my existence. Silver cars. My Lexus. My father's silver Mercedes. The lies, deceit, foolishness. My first pinprick. The hiding the bruise that had spread over my arm like a fungus._

Ow! I opened my eyes groggily and smelled something stale. Old pizza? Not a hospital smell. Martin's face swam in and out of my sandman-filled vision. He was holding a needle and an empty, dusty bag. The pain of withdrawal was gone, along with my resolve to never use again. I had never hated him and me with so much ferocity.

"_Martin says, Martin used to say…"_ My voice came back to me from the interrogation room, and I cried out. Martin sat down at my feet. His face was solemn.

"We need to talk, Enzo," he said. His voice held promises and love. I couldn't see past it.

"I'm sorry, Martin," I said. I started to cry. "Why? Why did you kill her?"

"Look at me, Enzo," Martin said softly. He tipped my head and I stared into his soft brown eyes. There was sorrow there. Deep sorrow. It was all I could see. "She made her decisions. Neither you nor I can be made responsible for that."

"But you told her to go!" I protested. "You led her to death."

"I was teaching her to face her fears," Martin said calmly. His belief in what he was saying infused me with cold warmth. "You must understand. I was trying to help her."

I saw he really meant it, and I became plagued with self-doubt. What if he was right? He seemed so sure of himself.

"Let us pray for her soul," Martin said.

I nodded, tears falling from my face. How could I have every doubted Martin? A certain fuzziness was stealing my mind. There was no euphoric rush with this dose, but I knew it was because my own despair at AJ's death was too strong for even the heroin.

"Now," Martin said after we had finished. "I must go back to A Sheltered Place to help my other lost souls in confronting their fears."

"Okay," I said thickly. He patted my shoulder, and then he paused.

"If anyone comes, you will want to stay here. They'll try to make the pain come back."

His voice fell on ears that were growing steadily deafer as the heroin added to the methadone in my system. I nodded again, my head too heavy to lift.

"Okay," I drawled. "I'll just go to sleep…"

_She was frantic. AJ! My heart pounded. I tried to shush her, but to no avail._

"_He's going to hear us," she squeaked._

"_He won't," I promised in a whisper. "Come here."_

_She relented, and I let my hand graze the side of her slender arm. She shivered at the cool touch I knew had sent shivers up her spine. Cupping my face in her hands, she pressed her lips against mine. I loved the taste of her. I wanted more, but today she didn't want to let me go further. I respected that. She was more real than anything else in my life. I couldn't lose her._

_I laid back and rested my head on my arm. She pulled it out from under me and nestled against me. Her warmth infused me. I was always cold and shivering, but when I was with AJ, she made me comfortable. Even withdrawal symptoms had little hold on me when AJ took me in her arms. She had this way of soothing my fears and nourishing me with the love I always craved. _

_Lying with her, feeling her pulse beat against my own fluttering ribs, I wished the night would never end. She was just as scared and as alone as I, but together, we were strong enough to conquer the world. I really did love her more than anything. I would sacrifice my life for this angel of sweet smells and even sweeter smiles. I knew she would do the same for me. We were like Romeo and Juliet, fated to be together. But then reality dealt a harsh blow…_

A pounding on the door woke me and I jerked, my eyelids heavy and unwilling to purge the image of AJ's perfection from my brain. The real world was a place of thorns and pain, washed away only by the love of AJ, heroin, and Martin. All but one of those loves were false and unstable, and the last was gone. Dead.

The pounding came again. I staggered to my feet and opened the door. There stood Dr. George Huang. My savior.

"You're coming with me," was all he said as he grabbed my arm and yanked me out of Martin's deadly embrace once and for all.


	4. Recovery

"Is…Martin cool with this?" I asked thickly. Martin's warning reverberated inside the fog of my consciousness.

"Absolutely," Dr. Huang promised, pushing me into his small black car. I sat there for ages and stared dully ahead. I could hear him talking to somebody outside the car, but that had little to do with me. My mind was pleasantly blank, save for a few questions. What did he want with me? Where was Martin?

Apparently Dr. Huang won the argument, because he got in the driver's seat and started the engine, _and drove off without a word. My father wasn't just being stubborn—he was being downright obstinate. I pleaded with him to talk. Begged him, threatened him. Told him I'd swear off it. To no avail. He dropped me off at the door of ASP, and I knew I was here to stay this time. I didn't even watch my father sign the custody papers. At least AJ was there. My only consolation. She was there to meet me, running out of her mother's—_black car. The psychologist stopped the engine and I blinked. Where had the time gone? What had happened? I followed Dr. Huang into a normal enough apartment. There was a faint smell of _sweet pea body spray. Her scent still emanated from her body, cool to the touch. The scrubs felt strange on my body, but I'd do anything for AJ, even this dead body. Dead! The tall man_ approached me and introduced himself to me. Dr. Alberto. He was a certified physician turned "bad," slim and strangely reminiscent of Martin. His mouth moved, and I was shocked to realize I could process his words.

My promise, Martin's injustice, the whole crazy thing came rushing back. I sat back on the white bed pushed up against the puke-yellow wall in shock. I had forgotten.

"Lay back," Dr. Huang said.

I complied, looking toward the sunlit window. I reveled in the pain the light inflicted up on my eyes and head.

"This is Dr. Alberto. He's going to make your heroin addiction go away," Dr. Huang said softly.

I nodded, a little confused.

"You need to be sober and straight for the trial," Dr. Huang said. "You're only sixteen, so this is technically illegal, but I have to get you off heroin before it kills you."

For a second, I wanted to scoff. Heroin couldn't kill me. Heroin was the thing that supported me through my darkest times. Heroin was the safe-haven. It was the thing that made everything else weightless and peaceful. But then I remembered AJ. She was dead, and it was all because of a lie. That lie was one that I had learnt from heroin. Heroin wasn't good. It was evil. It crept into your mind and pretended to be a gracious host, but it really destroyed you from the inside. I was done.

"Okay," I said, sounding stronger than I felt. I wanted this. I knew I wanted it. No more heroin, that love that I had come to hate.

Dr. Alberto straightened as if a switch had been flicked on. He fingered a pill bottle as he spoke.

"Im going to give you 750 mg of ibogain hydrochloride," he said matter-of-factly. He was much like Dr. Huang, but more dangerous. His resemblance to Martin was throwing me off.

I noticed IV tubes behind him. I groaned inwardly.

"More needles?" I asked apprehensively.

"No. needles. Capsule," he said, holding up the bottle and shaking it gently from side to side. He continued. "About twenty minutes after you swallow it, you'll feel a warm tingle up the side of your neck, followed by feeling of euphoria." He paused and looked at me. I stared back, a little anxious to hear what he was going to say next.

"Now for about eight hours, you're going to trip. Hallucinations, body rushes, the works," he grunted.

Eight hours. I knew how much things could change in eight hours.

"What—" I choked. "What if I freak out?" I asked, looking at the window again and rolling my tongue in my mouth, trying to speak clearly. My heart-rate started to increase.

"I've done 300 of these procedures," Dr. Alberto said with an amused tint to his voice. "No one's ever been eaten by a t-rex."

Dr. Huang, who had been studying me intently, broke in.

"Alberto's a licensed physician. You'll be fine." His soothing tones worked to calm my anxiety.

Another thought crossed my mind with horrific clarity. "What if it doesn't work?"

"91% of the time, it does," Dr. Alberto said with a small smile. He was proud of his accomplishment, but I wasn't completely convinced.

I shook my head, learning back against the pillows. The thought of this, my last resort, not working was unimaginable.

"With my luck," I moaned. "I'll be that other nine percent." I closed my eyes briefly. AJ swam behind my eyelids. I opened them again.

"Three years ago, I took that same gamble," Dr. Alberto said, dropping his tone. "Won my life back. Clean ever since."

I nodded, glancing around the room as if someone would be there to hold my hand and tell me I was doing the right thing. I needed that assurance, but I knew it wouldn't come. Dr. Huang cleared his throat.

"You ready?"

That was as much support as I'd get. "I'm scared," I admitted. I tried to force a smile, but the heaviness that dragged at the corners of my eyes and mouth was too much to overcome. I felt like my five year old self again, telling "mommy" I needed a hug.

"Life on the other side of this will be a much brighter picture," Dr. Huang said. I almost laughed at his clichéd psych talk. Then I took a deep breath and plucked the two cups from Dr. Alberto's fingers.

"Down the hatch," I said grimly. Raising the glass, I took the pill in my mouth and sipped the juice slowly.

A tense wait, then a warm tingle moved through my body. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I put the cup back and caught some of Dr. Huang's whispered conversation.

"How will we know if it worked?" he asked, not breaking his stoic exterior.

"Enzo will have lost his craving, he'll be clear-headed, and able to testify," Dr. Alberto responded. Clear-headed. The words sounded like candy to me.

"And if it doesn't work, he'll go back to ASP," Dr. Huang said grimly. I tensed, and pushed my head into the pillows, trying to block the doubts that pushed at my mind.

A flushing feeling started to wave through my body and moved up through my neck. It started to make me uncomfortable. Then I felt a euphoric rush swoop through my body. I was flying. My eyes closed…

_I was high as fuck. The colors of the DJ seemed to pulse in my very soul, infusing me with a wild urge to do something reckless and dangerous. Jumping off a building, skydiving. Anything to feel alive. I waved my hand in front of my face and watched as it turned into a single blur. Senior prom. I had snuck in as a sophomore with some of my friends._

_The scene changed suddenly, and I was sweating cold sweat as I sat on the couch in the circle of Martin's kids. I hated everything about the place. I couldn't bring myself to leave, though. He drew us in and kept us there. There was no use in trying to fight my addiction—Martin meant everything to everyone he touched. Thoughts of tipping the candles over flitted through my mind, but I never could do anything. It was as if my arms were paralyzed by the sweet sounds oozing from Martin's throat. Full of promises and lies. That's all he was._

_My vision went hazy and when it cleared, I was standing in front of AJ._

"_AJ," I said in wonder, holding my arm out to her. She took my hand and pressed it against her smooth cheek. "I love you, AJ," I said softly._

"_Why are you looking so down, Enzo?" she asked flirtatiously. "Lighten up!"_

_She was telling me to lighten up? She had always been the serious one. I had always had a great time. I always hid the doubts well. I followed her floating, bouncy stride carefully as she led me through a doorway into a garden full of blooming white roses._

"_A sign of loyalty," she whispered, plucking one off the stem as she drew me close. She leaned closer to me, and I could feel her breath on my cheek. The thorns scratched at my cheek. I closed my eyes, tears trickling down my cheeks unbidden. If this was a dream, I never wanted it to end. _

"_AJ," I sighed. She was better than any heroin. I went to smooth my palm against the lean lines of her hip, but she vanished._

_All of a sudden, I felt as though I could see myself in the room. My face swam in and out of focus. I was lying on the bed, tossing and turning. But at the same time, I was floating a few feet above the bed, looking down. I looked strangely different. On the bed I saw a scrawny sixteen year old boy who was struggling with the sheets as if they were trying to strangle him. His haunted hazel eyes were open but unseeing. His strong eyebrows almost vanished beneath his messy brown hair. It didn't seem to be me._

On and on it continued, each hallucination more alarming and emotionally draining than the last. I finally started to feel as though I was waking up. My neck was sore, and the knotted sheets were soaked with my sweat. I yawned and opened my eyes. The light blinded me for a split second, but I realized I felt different. What was it? I ran a steady hand over my chest, feeling each stark rib pass under my sweaty fingers. My stomach felt small, deflated and tight.

I was hungry. I stared at the wall, smiling to myself. My mind was clean, my throat was dry, and I needed food. _It had worked!_ Nothing had ever been so wonderful except for AJ. AJ. The memory pierced me like a knife twisting in my heart, and I laid my scarred and bruised arm over my forehead, tears streaming down my cheeks. Honest tears.

Alberto appeared at the door.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm okay," I said, marveling at the words and the truth behind them. I screwed up my face to stop the tears of gratitude from flowing freely.

"Ready to catch Martin once and for all?" Dr. Huang came and took the sheets off the bed. I got the hint and stood up, the blood draining from my head. It was still not enough to leave me shaking and drugged like before, and I reveled in the feeling of strength that infused me.

"What next?" I asked, staring from one man to the other. It was Dr. Huang who spoke.

"We talk to Alex," he said steadfastly, searching me with a swift glance. _I was ready._


	5. A New Life

A short car ride later, I was standing face to face with a tall, proper woman I distinctly remembered from my drugged haze in the bathroom. Her name surfaced from deep within my consciousness. Alex Cabot. She outlined the plan, her solemn-faced coworkers adding little bits of detail and advice. Then we were all herded into a high vaulted room with a large screen projector, and I was forced to watch myself in the interrogation room from what seemed like centuries ago.

What I saw shocked me. I used to think that I could function better with heroin in my system. I used to feel stronger, faster, and more intelligent with the poison coursing through my veins. I had fooled myself so much; I could barely recognize the person on screen as myself. Functioning? I had been in so much denial.

The reality of the world had hit, and the blow had knocked me out of a tailspin. Dr. Huang had saved my life from ending abruptly with an OD on some dimly lit back ally or in the house of someone who cared only for how much money my parents gave him. Maybe I was still a walking, beat-up skeleton, but II was no longer the desolate, whimpering mess I saw on screen. That boy was no longer me, I knew, even as I touched my brown hair and traced the fading tracks on my arm with a trembling finger.

I had never felt so conflicted and confused in my life. The promises that the drug had made me were false. Martin Gold was a falsehood in himself. My life as I used to know it was gone and done for. There was nothing but a certain bleakness behind me that would demand no more of my attention. I was done with the life that I saw on the screen. I was ready to face whatever life had to throw at me with shoulders that were unprotected, yet strong enough to withstand the blow.

That boy crying out in the footage was weak. He was cowering and at the mercy of others. That boy had a wild look in his hazel eyes. His face was beet red, his hair matted to his skin in medium length strands of limp yarn. His voice was broken and shrill, his body shaky and pleading. That boy was a child. I was a man.

A man strong enough to do this. I nodded my consent, and signed my name on the dotted line. It was set. I was ready to bring Martin down.

All too soon, we were there. The car pulled up a block away, and I walked down the familiar sidewalk, staring at the cracks that marched ahead of me like arrows pointing to either my doom or Martin's downfall. With any luck, it'd be the latter.

Being back at ASP brought back too many months of ingrained habit. My heart was pounding. I hoped I looked convincing in my fatigue green shirt. As I stood there shaking, I clutched my left arm and arranged my face into what I hoped matched my withdrawal expression. Muscle memory. It was almost too easy to plead for my forgiveness, see Martin's melodramatic show of acceptance in front of his rabid admirers, and feel him move in.

Inside, I was screaming at him to stop this, to move away. I was trying to forget all the memories he had carved into my mind. I refused to fall for his flattery again. His soothing voice was like a snake. Velvet and mollifying, until the prey came too close. Then he would strike. His poison had inflicted wounds on too many people. It had killed too many lives. It was time to put an end to his reign over the young minds of his patients and their families once and for all. I would do this for AJ.

I pretended to be overjoyed at being accepted once again, and I nestled against Martin's body, shorter than mine and almost as rail thin. I was so scared he'd feel the radio. For a second, I thought he had, for he stiffened imperceptibly. _No!_ I thought. I hadn't gotten the evidence I needed. But then he extended his fingers toward me, and my fingers sought out the little bag of hate.

"Hands up!" The cops stormed in.

Martin's eyes widened. Things happened so fast. I stepped off to the side and Martin snapped. He started screaming at me. Words hurt. They hurt me bad. I tried to shrug them off, but they wormed under my skin and infiltrated my head, scattering fleeting doubts in every single assurance I had found in Mr. Huang and the police.

"You're going to come crawling back for more," Martin snarled as he was led away.

I brushed the sting off as best I could. "You better hope it's not before I testify," I said calmly in return. Far calmer than I felt. "I'm clean, Martin," I said. I felt the weight of the words sink in. _I was clean._

I closed my eyes and ears to the cutting insults and his near-truths. When I opened them again, the psych was standing there. He nodded solemnly. A new life. I was ready to face it, no matter what happened to me.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked me. I nodded and walked out the door. She patted me on the back and I smiled. I owed these detectives my life. The least I could do was help bring Martin in.

"Anymore help you ever need, I'm willing," I said. "Just call me."

They waved me off as I walked to my new Ford Ranger. In one week, I'd be legally emancipated. For now, my gadgets were sold and downgraded. The leftover cash was waiting for the paperwork to be done so I could move into an apartment near the local high school, and I was waiting for my job application to be processed. With any luck, by the time Martin took the stand, I'd be living on my own, going to school, and working as a janitor at the very morgue where AJ was laid open.

So bleak before, my dead end future had become a wide open array of endless opportunities. I couldn't have been more pleased to rid myself of the lies my false love held. I was ready to face the world. I was ready to live the life I was born to live.

**A.N./ I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are always appreciated. I spent a lot of time on this one, and I'm rather pleased with it. Thanks for reading!**


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